Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Mom picked up on the cue with a smile. “Yes. Gunner, Caspian mentioned you’re looking for a job right now, and you’re strong and handy. Would you like a trial run with us? There’s a lot of little odd jobs in event organizing…”
Say yes, say yes.
Gunner stilled with the fork in his mouth and took a moment to swallow. “Oh. I don’t know if I’m what people wanna see at their wedding, or conference, or—” he mumbled and pointed to his face with an awkward smile.
Mom shook her head before Caspian could have butted in. “Nonsense. I’m not offering you a job at the reception, so it won’t be an issue. But strong men are always needed to help with decorating, moving things, minor carpentry, and so on.”
Gunner seemed lost, so Caspian smiled at him in encouragement.
“What do you think? I know you like doing practical things, and even if you end up finding something better in a while, why not try this for now? All the people who work for Mom are really friendly, and customers have different requests, so you’d be doing a variety of jobs,” he said, trying not to sound pushy, even though he knew that Gunner should say yes to this. Because he was right about his tattoos putting him at a disadvantage when job-hunting no matter how unfair that was.
Gunner gave a slow nod. “Thank you. Yes, I’d love to. As a trial. I don’t want it to be awkward if it turns out I’m not a good fit.”
“Of course. You can join the team for a month, and we shall see where we want to go from there,” Dad said, pouring the remaining wine into Mom’s glass.
She clapped and shook her blonde locks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m full. How about we move to the music room? Caspian has recently been playing the piano as if he’d been possessed by the ghost of Mozart. How about that, sweetheart?” she asked, smiling in a way that froze Caspian’s blood.
She kept insisting on hearing him play, and had even asked Caspian to perform at an event—a first since he’d graduated junior high—so Gunner’s dedication to playing the piano must have impressed her. And no wonder, because while Caspian was good at following sheet music, Gunner made music with passion.
Gunner offered to clean the dishes, but Mom wouldn’t have it, and they ended up going to the music room, like she wanted. Caspian sat on the bench at the instrument without any more coercing, because he might as well get it over with. He had a set repertoire of five pieces, which he could play from memory, and once his mom was satisfied, they could all go back to their conversation.
He was almost done with the first tune when Gunner whispered something to Mom and left.
Caspian’s first thought was that maybe he needed to use the washroom, but why wouldn’t he have done that before Caspian started playing? Caspian’s skin broke out in goosebumps, and he raised his hands off the keyboard, stopping the music abruptly.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Mom shrugged and was about to say something when Caspian rose.
“I’ll be back in a second,” he said and hurried out of the room, searching for a sign of Gunner’s presence. He heard a door shut down the corridor, so he rushed over there, only to realize that he was being stupid, and Gunner really did go to the restroom, because there was light coming from under its door.
Caspian hovered his hand over the handle, but before he could have returned to his parents, a muffled sob echoed behind the door, turning his bones into ice.
Each was a stab piercing through his flesh and touching his heart with its freezing claws. Perhaps he should have backed away and given Gunner a moment of peace, but he stepped closer instead and spoke.
“Gunner?”
The gasp inside broke his heart, and made him want to break down the door just so he could be in there, comforting Gunner over whatever the problem was.
“Out in a minute!” Gunner said in a shaky voice.
Caspian banged his forehead against the wood, his hand already squeezing the handle while his heart raced. “No. Now. I want to come in. Please.”
It took a while, but Caspian eventually heard the lock open, and he walked in so fast, he hit Gunner’s foot with the door.
“Fuck!” Gunner hissed, rubbing his reddened eyes. “It’s fine, really.”
Caspian shut the door behind him, instinctively resting his hands on Gunner’s ribs. “It clearly isn’t. What’s wrong?” Caspian asked in a soft voice, crooking his head to keep looking at Gunner’s face, even when the stubborn bull tried to turn it away.
There was a dull moment of silence. And then—
“I can’t play anymore,” Gunner choked out. “I tried. At the mall. And I don’t remember how to. I loved it so much.” He tried to hold in another sob, but tears still ran down his cheeks and he leaned down to tighten his arms around Caspian.